Tempest Revealed (5 page)

I shuddered a little at his careless mention of a storm, but I refused to give in to the uneasiness. Between Tiamat’s powers and my own, I swore I was developing PTSD when it came to thunderstorms—even natural ones. Still, I wasn’t going to let things I couldn’t change ruin this moment with my friends, not when it had to last us for months. And maybe forever.

“Oh, I’ll be there. After all, someone’s got to keep you from getting hammered.”

Tony crowed. “Big talk for a betty from Oahu. You sure you haven’t gone soft?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You wish.”

“No way, man. I want to hear all about the Pipeline. You surfed it yet?”

“I, umm—” I floundered around for a minute, trying to figure out how to answer. I didn’t want to lie to my friends any more than I already had, but there was no way Logan or Bach would believe I’d spent a year on Oahu without trying my hand at the North Shore Pipeline. It was dangerous—one of the most deadly places to surf in the world—but they all knew me well enough to know I’d never walk away from it. I’d watched my father shoot barrels there too many times not to want my shot at it.

Luckily the band chose that moment to play the opening chords of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” I let Tony’s question get lost in the crush of bodies standing for it, and by the time the game started, the conversation had thankfully moved on to other things.

I didn’t try to participate. Instead, I sat there listening to the ebb and flow of voices all around me. For the second time today, I felt relaxed. Happy. Like maybe things weren’t going to end as badly as I feared they would. It was hard to worry when I felt better than I had in months.

The feeling lasted through the first quarter and part of the way into the second. Mark leaned over and asked, “Do you want anything from the snack bar? I’m going to get a drink.”

“A lemonade would be great, actually.”

“Anything else?”

I eyed the huge basket of nachos Bach and Scooter were in the middle of devouring. It seemed like forever since I’d had a tortilla chip. “I wouldn’t mind an order of those,” I told him, nodding toward what had once been my favorite junk food.

“I’m on it.” Mark got to his feet. “With or without jalapenos?”

“Like you even have to ask?” I had to shout to be heard above the roar of the crowd.

“Right. I keep forgetting Moku’s not around. Extra peppers it is.” He bent down and brushed his lips against mine. I know he planned on it being a quick little peck, but I grabbed the back of his head and held him to me as I—very thoroughly—explored his mouth.

“Seriously? Again?” Logan complained from beside me.

“Dude, I think her tonsils are just fine,” Scooter joined in. “You can stop checking them any time now.”

I pulled away with a laugh but was pleased to see the slightly dazed look in Mark’s eyes as he continued to stand there.

“Dude, go make yourself useful,” Logan finally told him with a little shove. “You’re blocking my view.”

Mark flipped him off but started moving toward the aisle anyway.

As soon as Mark had disappeared into the crowd, Logan turned to me and, in the smarmiest voice possible, said, “Finally. Alone at last. I thought he’d never leave.”

I laughed. “If by alone you mean in the middle of three thousand people, then yes, we’re alone.”

“That’s exactly what I meant. And since we’re all by ourselves …” He nudged me with his shoulder until I got the message and scooted over into Mark’s spot. He followed me, moving until there was an obvious gap between the others and us. With the noise of the game all around us, we might as well have been in our own little world.

“Since we’re alone?” I prompted, too amused to be wary. This was Logan, and I knew he would never say or do anything to hurt me.

“Are you going to tell me where you’ve really been for the last year? Because if you’ve been surfing the North Shore, then I’m the biggest Barney on the block. And darlin’, I’m nobody’s Barney.”

It’s true, he wasn’t. Logan knew me better than almost anyone. Lying to him this last year hadn’t been easy, despite all my absences, but I hadn’t had a choice. I still didn’t. I’d already violated Pacific law by telling Mark what I was. Adding Logan to the mix was out of the question.

I started to laugh his questions off, to tell him he was being ridiculous, but the look on his face said he was calling my bluff,
even before I offered it. His deep blue eyes were steady on mine, his mouth set in a straight line completely unlike the smile he usually wore. And his body language, his serious, no-bullshit demeanor, told me there was only one right answer to this question.

The truth.

Chapter 4

For long seconds, time seemed to stand still. All around me, the crowd was on its feet, people screaming and yelling, stomping and clapping and generally going insane because of some play on the field that I couldn’t see and didn’t give a damn about anyway.

But for all my dismissal of the loud, exuberant people around me, inside I felt the same way. My thoughts were a crazy, mixed-up cacophony, whirling in my head one after another, like a washing machine set on the perennial spin cycle.

Through it all, I didn’t look away from Logan or his unblinking stare and determination to know what was up with me. A part of me wanted to shout at him to mind his own business, but the truth was I would have done the same thing in his shoes. He was my best bud, my closest and oldest friend in the world, save Mark, and if I thought there was something strange going on with him—something hurting him that I couldn’t see—I would damn well be up in his face too.

But just because I understood where he was coming from
didn’t mean I could tell him the truth. At the same time, telling him a lie wouldn’t work. I was a terrible liar (probably why he knew I wasn’t really living in Oahu), and I knew if I
did
lie to him now, he would never forgive me. Never trust me again.

My confusion must have shown on my face, because Logan finally broke eye contact. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug I had no desire to fight. “Tell me this,” he said, his voice a fierce whisper against my ear. “Are you okay? Whatever it is you’re doing, wherever it is you go when you leave here, is it safe?”

Another question I wasn’t sure how to answer. In the end, I just nodded, my face rubbing against the softness of his well-worn T-shirt.

“Liar.” But he didn’t sound accusatory, just concerned.

And that’s when I knew I had to tell him. What was the point of being best buds if I didn’t trust him? I pulled away, looked him straight in the eye, then spoke so low that only he could hear. “I’m different, Logan.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“No. I mean, really different.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of different are we talking about here? Super-talented-and-a-little-eccentric different? Or head-spinning-around-spitting-pea-soup different? Because if you’re possessed, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Only Logan could make me laugh about something so difficult. “I’m not possessed.” Then I put my hands together, pinky to pinky, palms facing up. And, turning my body so that no one else could see what I was doing, I kick-started the phosphorescence that made me visible in the depths of the ocean.

Logan’s face went slack. “I don’t suppose you have a glow stick hidden between your fingers?”

I split them apart so he could see I wasn’t messing with him.

He looked from my hands to my face and then back again. “So, what? You’re part fish?”

My mouth dropped open in shock. “Why would you say that?”

“I was joking. I just don’t know of anything else that glows like that—except for vampires, I mean.”

“Well, I’m not a vampire.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you were.”

I kept looking at him, waiting for him to connect the dots. I could see the moment it dawned on him that I hadn’t denied the fish thing. He stopped laughing and just stared at me. Then he whispered, “You’re a fish?”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m mermaid.”

“Mermaid?”

“Yes.”

“So green tail—”

“Mine’s purple. Like the phosphorescence. And my tattoos.”

His eyes bugged out of his head and he didn’t say anything for long seconds. “Like swim underwater, wear a bikini made of shells, have King Triton for a dad mermaid?”

“I’m
a
mermaid, not the Little Mermaid,” I told him softly. “And my life isn’t exactly a Disney movie.”

“Yeah, well, mine’s beginning to feel like an episode of
The Twilight Zone
.” He shook his head. “Are you messing with me?”

“Look at me, Logan. Really look at me.”

His eyes darted up to mine, and I relaxed all the safeguards I
usually used to keep myself human. I let my gills pop out behind my ears, let my eyes do the thin, nearly invisible film thing that kept salt water from stinging them. Even let my face and hair glow purple, just for a second.

“Holy shit.”

I took his hand, rubbed his fingers over my gills.

“Holy shit.”

I blinked and in a split second my whole body returned to its purely human state.

“Holy—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “I get it. You’re shocked.”

“I’m a long way from shocked, Tempe.” He stared at me for a while. “Can you really grow a tail?”

“Of course.”

“Can I see it?”

“Not here.”

He groaned. “Only you would pick the middle of a football game to tell me this.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.” I didn’t want to lie anymore at all. I knew it was necessary, required even. But Logan knowing, Mark knowing … it was better.

He glanced over his shoulder to where Bach was totally absorbed in his conversation with Scooter. “I want to see it,” he repeated, still whispering.

“You know, I don’t show my tail to just anyone. It’s kind of personal.”

“Seriously?” I could all but see his brain boggling at that one.

I laughed. “No, not seriously. But you should have seen your face.”

“Ha-ha. So if you’re not in Hawaii …”

“I’m not all that far from Hawaii. Just underwater instead of above it.”

“Right. Of course.” He looked a little shell-shocked.

“Are you going to be okay with this?”

“Are you? Something tells me being ‘different’ is dangerous for you.”

“I
am
going to be okay.” I had to be—for a while longer, anyway—or no one and nothing I cared about would be safe.

He must have heard the conviction in my voice because he nodded. “All right then. But if you ever need—” He broke off, sighed heavily. “If you ever need anything, call—”

“I know. Ghostbusters.”

“Not quite what I was going to say. But they work, too.”

I laughed, rested my head on his shoulder. “I know I can call you.”

“You’d better. We Australians know our way around a fight.”

“Yeah, but where I’m going there are no kangaroos.”

He glared at me. “I told you that story in confidence.”

“Hey, I haven’t told anyone that you once got your ass kicked by a baby kangaroo.”

“It wasn’t a baby. And those things are vicious. Have you ever seen a kangaroo up close?”

“Poor thing,” I cooed in mock sympathy. “And here I thought fending off sharks was dangerous. Who knew that what I should really be worrying about was kangaroos?”

“Really?” His eyes narrowed with sudden, intense focus. “Do they bother you when you’re … you know?”

I thought of Tiamat’s shark-men, but decided they were too much for Logan’s brain to handle right now. He’d dealt with the mermaid thing pretty well, but there was no reason to completely blow his mind. Besides, I needed him sane. That way, if anything happened to me, Mark would have someone to talk to who really understood what had happened—and what he was going through.

Logan looked like he wanted to say more, but Mark chose that moment to jostle his way back down the row to us.

As Mark settled beside us, carrying a tray loaded with three drinks and an extra-large tray of nachos, Logan gave up his questions. And I gave myself up to the simple pleasure of watching a game with my best friends. If I squinted a little, and didn’t think too hard, it could be like I’d never left.

“Hey, thanks for the pizza!” I called after Logan, Scooter, and Bach as they made their way down the block to where Bach had parked his old Chevy Blazer three hours before. We’d gone to Frazoni’s for pizza and cannolis after the game let out, and much to my shock, we had closed the place down. It was after one in the morning and I had absolutely no recollection of how it had gotten that late. One minute we were ordering pizza and talking over one another as the guys filled me in on everything I’d missed since the last time I’d been home (a lot), and the next the Frazoni’s staff was hustling us out the front door because they wanted to go home.

Bach raised his hand in a casual acknowledgment of my thanks, then yelled, “We’d better see you in the mañana,
Tempe. On the beach, six thirty, or there will be hell to pay. Got it, chica? Hell to pay.”

“I got it. I got it.”

“You’d better,” Logan chimed in. “Or I’m coming for you. I will totally drag your ass out of bed and down to the sand in your pajamas.”